It Had To Be You
by DeanandSamsMuse
Summary: <html><head></head>Sam Colt knew from the moment he met co-worker Dean Winchester that the man was a heart breaker. Sam decided to protect his heart by dating Jimmy Novak who seemed like the perfect guy, safe and willing to commit. Will true love win out? Not Wincest/slash</html>


Title: It Had To Be You

Authors: Dean & Sam's Muse & Dean's Angel Cake

Pairing: Dean/Sam, mentions of Sam/Jimmy and Dean/OMC

Rating: NC17

Warning: Slash

Disclaimer: We don't own Dean, Sam or Jimmy (Cas's vessel).

Summary: Sam Colt knew from the moment he met co-worker Dean Winchester that the man was a heart breaker. Sam decided to protect his heart by dating Jimmy Novak who seemed like the perfect guy, safe and willing to commit. When circumstance place Sam as Dean's roommate everything Sam thinks he knows and feels changes.

**It Had To Be You**

The office was deserted, or so Sam thought. He leaned back in his chair and sighed. It was early September, a time for reconfirming the old accounts, and trying to attract new clients. There had been endless parties and dinners and a mound of paperwork, and although he loved his job, this part of the year was always exhausting.

He had done well for a guy who was only twenty-five. This job at WROC Radio, New York's premier Rock and Talk Station, had begun as a summer job two years ago. He never dreamed working for Bobby Singer, the number one rock radio advertising man in New York, would turn into a forty thousand dollar a year job.

Overall, Sam felt as if he was the luckiest guy in the world when it came to his job. His boss had just told him he was in for a big bonus this year. He loved meeting new people, taking them out for dinners and lunches and getting them to give their advertising business to WROC. He also loved rock music, and he got to see rock stars every once in awhile when they came in to the station for on air interviews. What more could one ask in life?

Even though he had a great job and lots of friends, he was still lonely. He dated a few guys here and there, but he was looking forward to meeting a nice guy, falling in love, and having a long-term relationship. He had played the field for awhile but had grown tired of it. Mr. Right had not come along. He'd had offers but there were no fireworks, no one who truly did it for him.

He knew he was good-looking; some people told him he was far better-looking than he realized, which was a curse sometimes. Men looked at him and thought "sex" and that was great, but often that's all there was to it. At six-four, he had a well-toned body, shoulder-length wavy sable hair, and big blue, green, gold eyes. He had the face of a boy with the body of a man, which gave him great appeal. He was also very outgoing and sociable, which made it easy for him to meet people. But it was always the wrong people he met, good-looking guys who wanted to play the field. No one seemed to be looking for a relationship anymore.

The people at WROC were, for the most part, good people. There were a few jerks mixed in, but overall, it was a nice place to work.

Of course all his gay male friends were jealous because he worked at the same station as Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester was an entire industry unto himself. He was New York's foremost DJ, the host of Rock and Roar Radio. With his energy and personality, he had taken the station from twentieth in the ratings to the top ten. Not to mention his looks. Dean was twenty-eight years old, six feet two, with a body a god would envy. He had spiky blond hair, amazing jade green eyes, and a smile that melted anyone he chose to flash it at. There wasn't anyone immune to that smile of his. All the musicians he interviewed liked him, and he was invited to private parties and given backstage passes that reporters for major rock magazines were sometimes denied. Dean knew rock inside and out. He had an instinct for what the fans wanted to hear and what they wanted to talk about. He'd also been instrumental in launching some popular groups, giving them air time. He was WROC's gold mine.

All this, and the guy was actually a very nice man. He wasn't full of himself at all. He was even friendly with the janitor, and took time out to host charity events. Sam liked him a lot, but they had a rather odd relationship. They often engaged in intense flirting and teasing banter, but in spite of the blatant sexual attraction between them, Sam was careful to keep Dean at arm's length. And there was a perfectly good explanation for that, one he found himself having to explain over and over to his friends, who didn't understand why in the hell he hadn't slept with Dean Winchester.

He'd met Dean on the very first day he began his job at WROC radio. He was nervous that day. Bobby had been desperate for an assistant because the last one had just quit on him. He'd told Sam rather hastily that he had the job and then headed for the door. Before he left, he pointed to a pile of papers on the desk, saying, "I've got no time to hang around, kid. Check those accounts for me and put them in a filing system. We'll do the paperwork for your contract later."

Sam hadn't realized that Dean had been observing him from the little room in back where he was pouring coffee. When he came out and extended his hand with that smile of his, Sam almost fell on his ass. He'd seen pictures of him, of course, on billboards and in the papers, but here he was in the flesh, and the pictures didn't do him justice at all. Dean was buff, had mesmerizing green eyes, and that smile almost knocked Sam over backwards.

"Don't pay any attention to Bobby," Dean told him with a deep laugh, putting down his coffee cup. "He doesn't mean to be an asshole, he was born that way."

Sam's eyes widened. "No, I never thought he was an ... asshole ... I..."

"Relax," Dean told him. "You look like you're about to have a major coronary. If you're going to work here at this nuthouse, you're going to have to know how to roll with the punches."

"I'm not ... ah ... sure" Sam glanced at the files "what he wants and I ... well ... I came for an interview. I didn't expect to start working right now. I mean ... I'm grateful and..."

"Don't worry," Dean told him, grinning. He came around to the front of the desk and leaned over him. He smelled like wild musk and cinnamon and oh, it was hard to concentrate on anything. "Okay, these are old accounts, dead, put them over here in a pile. These are possible renewals, see with the blue stamps, and these here are potential clients. They need to be seduced."

Sam laughed. Dean laughed with him. Sam would never forget what he'd done for him that day, how he'd calmed him down, helped him to make sense of it all. He found himself daydreaming about Dean all afternoon as he listened to his deep sexy voice announcing in the sound booth down the hall.

A few days later, Sam had gone out for a drink with some of the others from the office, really beginning to feel at home. Dean came into the bar a half hour later. The place, Cool Cat Lounge, was a regular hangout for the gang at WROC after work. It was there that Sam really began to talk to Dean. They had a drink and talked for over two hours about work and life. Sam was more than just a little thrilled to discover Dean was gay too. And, like himself, very open about it.

So when Dean asked him to come back to his place for another drink, Sam didn't hesitate. Now, when he thought back on that night two years ago, it was probably the happiest he'd ever been. But his euphoria was about to end abruptly.

It had been a clear, starlit night. They had taken a leisurely walk back to Dean's apartment building, talking and laughing. The walk had been filled with delicious sexual tension and anticipation. And then in the entrance to the building, Dean had unexpectedly kissed him. It wasn't long or especially passionate but that kiss had sent shivers of pleasure up his spine. In the elevator, Dean smiled at him. He was so damn beautiful. Sam thought maybe he'd died and gone to heaven.

Then they stepped off the elevator. "Damn it," Dean swore. Sam hadn't realized what was happening until Dean ran down the hall towards his open apartment door, demanding angrily, "What the hell are you doing in my apartment? You were supposed to have left your key with security."

Sam followed him hesitantly. All he wanted to know or didn't want to know about Dean Winchester as the potential love of his life was spelled out in the course of five minutes.

The young man he met that night at Dean's apartment turned out to be the one he'd just replaced at WROC Radio. He was blond, blue-eyed, very handsome, and extremely distraught. His eyes were red from crying. After calling Dean every name in the book, he told him he hated him. Then carrying several photographs in his hand which he stated were "rightfully his" and "all he had left of his broken heart," he pushed past Dean and paused for a second in front of Sam. "Ah, so I see," he said, eyeing Sam with contempt. "You're the boy toy who took my job and my place in bed too! Well, let me tell you, it's heaven while it lasts, but eventually, he'll rip out your heart and eat it for breakfast. But don't worry, when it's over, there are plenty others that you can go crying to. We've formed a club."

Sam stood there speechless, watching the young man race off down the hall. Dean gave him a tense smile. "Sorry about that."

"That was Marc Sullivan, wasn't it? He's the guy I replaced?" Sam croaked.

"That's him." Dean frowned.

"You were ... he was living here?"

"No. He wasn't. He had a key." Dean walked into the apartment.

Sam stood hesitantly at the door. "You were the reason he quit his job?"

Dean sighed. "Sam, forget it. It's over with. It didn't work out between us. He was just being overdramatic."

"It looks like he's in love with you," Sam murmured. "The guy was destroyed. He was crying."

"Like I said, he always had a flair for the dramatic." Dean paused, then met his eyes. "Are we going to talk about Marc all night or are we going to have that drink?"

He wanted to stay. There was no question of that. But he couldn't shake the image of Marc standing there, his eyes red from crying, and suddenly he had an image of himself doing the same thing.

He walked into Dean's apartment that night, and had the drink because he really needed it, but he couldn't get the image of Marc sobbing out of his mind. When Dean moved closer to him and bent over to kiss him again, he jumped up off the sofa as if his butt were suddenly on fire. To this very day, there was a part of him that deeply regretted doing that, but he was sure he'd done the right thing. Dean Winchester was the type of guy that should have had a neon sign tattooed on his forehead reading, "Warning: lethal to the heart." He was a great guy, but he would have made a lousy boyfriend. It was obvious that he liked to play the field too much and fidelity was a foreign word to him. Relationships were not a serious thing to Dean. So Sam had told him that night, "I'm sorry, Dean. Let's just be friends, okay? I don't think I'd survive you."

Amazingly enough, Dean had leaned back against the sofa and laughed softly. He didn't appear to be upset. He stood up. "Okay," he said, "if that's what you want. Come on, I'll walk you home."

After that night, their relationship evolved into a comfortable teasing banter that was fun, but designed to go nowhere.

It was this story he told his friends, who usually replied that he'd been an idiot.

"There was nothing to prevent you from making it with him," Chad, his best friend, chastised him often. "I would have jumped him, who in hell cared about that Marc guy. Maybe he was a loser."

Sam shook his head. "You don't understand. My heart, Chad, is what prevented me from jumping into bed with him. One night in bed with Dean Winchester, and you'd be hooked like an addict. And it would make for an uncomfortable situation at work when he dumped me. Look what happened with Marc. He quit his job without notice. I like my job. I want to hold on to it. Dean is a heartbreaker. It's best to steer clear sexually. You'd be on cloud nine with him for awhile and then he'd throw you over for someone else and you'd be drowning in despair."

"Except that when you were on that cloud, you'd be having triple orgasms," Chad would tease, which Sam would reply by drawling, "Well, you got me there."

"And how do you know," Chad had mused, "that you wouldn't have lasted? Maybe you would have been the love of his life."

That often gave Sam pause. What if he had taken the risk and it had worked out between them? Damn, sometimes when he looked at Dean, he wondered if it wouldn't have been worth the risk.

He decided it was better not to speculate on what could have been. So for the last two years, that was how it stood between them. They were friends who flirted harmlessly on occasion and that was cool. Meanwhile, he dated different guys and kept his eye peeled for someone who wanted something more than just a night of passion, a good-looking man who liked to walk on the beach, take moonlight drives, and hold hands in bed. He was beginning to consider one of those dating services when boom, there he was, the man of his dreams.

His name was Jimmy Novak. He was thirty two years old, had jet black hair, blue eyes, and a great sense of humor. He came walking into WROC Radio one day, asking to see Sam's boss, Bobby Singer.

"The boss is out but I'm Sam, his assistant. Is this concerning an account?" Sam asked, standing up.

He smiled at him. "No. I've just been transferred here from your sister radio station in Chicago. Since your department has been doing so well with collecting new accounts, they thought it would be good to expand outside New York. I'm the new guy for external accounts. Didn't someone tell you?"

Sam laughed. "Probably, but it's a busy time right now what with Christmas around the corner. I probably wrote it down somewhere. Sorry. Anyway, welcome. I'm pleased to meet you. I'm Sam Colt."

They shook hands. Sam liked him immediately. When the boss came back, Jimmy was introduced around and given a desk. Sam was glad to have him on board. Not only was he pleasant to look at, he would take a lot of the pressure off him in terms of paperwork.

When Dean came in on his way to the sound booth, Sam waved at him. Dean walked over, brushing snowflakes off his spiky blond hair. He wore a long black leather coat over jeans and a white cable-knit sweater. Sam still held his breath sometimes when he saw him walk towards him. Dean was stunning.

He was smiling too. "Hey there, kiddo! Whatcha want?" "Meet Jimmy. Jimmy, this is—" "Now here's a guy that needs no introduction." Jimmy stood,

holding out his hand. "Hi, Dean." Dean narrowed his eyes. "Do I know you?" He shook his hand briefly. "Well, not personally, I was working at WRKT in Chicago

and now I'm the new external accounts man here. You've done phenomenal things for this station, Dean."

He smiled faintly. "Thanks ... well ... welcome to the zoo."

With that, he turned around and disappeared down the hall.

"God, he's really ... ah..." Jimmy paused, waving his hand in front of his face.

Sam grinned at him. "Tall?" he suggested.

They both laughed, knowing that wasn't what Jimmy meant at all.

That night they went to dinner and Sam talked about Dean a bit. Sam warned Jimmy not to get involved with Dean and recounted his experience two years back.

"No worries," Jimmy said, meeting his eyes. "Dean Winchester is drop-dead gorgeous but it's not him I'm interested in."

Sam swallowed. When Jimmy reached over and squeezed his hand across the table, his heart did a little flip-flop. From there, the romance took off. They tried to keep a low profile in the office, but it was difficult. Dean began teasing him about Jimmy very discreetly, to which Sam would just grin and say, "I don't kiss and tell."

"From my recollections," Dean mused one evening, emerging from the sound booth, sipping the last of his cold coffee, "you don't kiss at all."

Sam made a face, cleaning up the last minute paperwork as Dean went to get his coat. "That's not true." Sam held up his finger, "I do kiss, I just don't kiss you."

"Ah, I see," Dean said with a laugh. "Nasty, and heartless, may I add." Then he sobered. "You still interested in moving out of that apartment of yours, Sam?"

"Yeah, it's way too small." Sam met his eyes and reached in the drawer of his desk for his car keys.

"Well, I need a roommate. My place is huge. The rent is reasonable but I'm finding it too big for just one person. If you're interested, why not consider sharing it with me? I'm never home anyway."

Sam's eyes widened. "Dean! Are you kidding? You'd be the last man on earth I'd ever share an apartment with."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Why? Scared?" Sam flushed. "Why would I be?" "I have no idea. I wasn't suggesting anything other than a purely financial arrangement. It's just that you're always complaining about your apartment and I..."

Sam blushed. "I'm sorry. I overreacted. That was really a nice offer, but"—he lowered his voice—"Jimmy and I are looking for a house." He laughed a little. "I feel giddy. I gave my notice already on my apartment, and well ... it's all moving so fast."

"I see. I didn't know you and Jimmy had gotten so serious." "Don't say anything around the office because..." Dean shook his head. "No worries. Well, I'll put up an announcement on the bulletin board. Hope you and Jimmy find something you like." He shrugged into his coat, raised a hand, and said, "See you later then."

"Night. Have a nice weekend," Sam called after him. He couldn't wait to meet Jimmy so that they could go house hunting.

They found the perfect house. Sam was just waiting for Jimmy to call the broker to give them the go-ahead. But lately Jimmy had been making himself scarce. He was always out on "business" and he never gave Sam a straight answer about the house. The broker had called him three times expecting an answer. They were going to lose the house if they didn't move on it.

Finally, over dinner one night, Jimmy told him something that just about knocked him over. "About the house, Sam, I think we should each keep our own places for now because..."

"What?" Sam gasped. "Jimmy, I gave my notice. I have to be out of my apartment, like yesterday."

"I didn't tell you before, Sam, but I'm married. Now, before you freak out on me, we're getting a divorce. I haven't told her yet, but..."

"Married?" Sam was stunned.

Needless to say, the evening was a bust. Sam left Jimmy at the restaurant and walked the streets, crying. Somehow he ended up at Dean's apartment building. It was past midnight. He rang the bell several times. Finally he heard a deep, sleepy voice say, "Yeah?"

"It's Sam." He sniffed. "I know it's late, but can I come up?"

"Sam? Ah sure. I'll ring you in."

He knew his face was streaked with tears when Dean answered the door. He stood there, shivering. Dean's eyes widened. He pulled Sam inside and shut the door.

"What...?" Dean began, inspecting him. "I thought you and Jimmy would be..."

Sam broke down and threw his arms around Dean, who patted his back indulgently. "Hey ... hey..." Dean said, pulling his robe around him and leading Sam over to the sofa. He handed him some tissues. "What's all this?"

"Everything's a mess, Dean," Sam said, blowing his nose. "Jimmy is married, I have no home, and..." He started crying again.

"Married?" Dean echoed. "That son of a bitch; I knew there was something."

"He's getting a divorce, but we've lost the house and I don't know what to do ... where to go and..."

"You'll move in here, at least temporarily until you can find something, all right?" Dean said sternly, meeting his gaze.

Sam nodded. What else could he do? And that's how he came to be Dean's roommate.

**Chapter Two**

It was uncomfortable at work. He was still in love with Jimmy. Jimmy was trying to get him alone to talk to him, but Sam did his best to avoid him. He'd been living with Dean now for over a month, and except for the occasional strange man he would sometimes bump into in the bathroom in the middle of the night, the arrangement was perfect. Dean often went somewhere on his weekends off so Sam had the entire place to himself. The apartment was huge and he had a great big bedroom. There was a big-screen television in the living room with a DVD player, game consoles, and Dolby stereo. It was great. And of course, his best friend Chad hadn't stopped bothering him to come over so that he could meet Dean.

One day, catching Sam in the station break room, Jimmy said that he had told his wife about them.

"Really?" Sam looked up at him. He missed Jimmy, and he was beginning to mellow. "What did you say?"

"I told her that I loved you. Sam, can't we get together and have dinner? Talk?" He moved closer to him.

Just then, Dean came into the room. He eyed Jimmy, who moved away from Sam. Dean poured some coffee.

"Dean." Jimmy smiled at him. "Jimmy." Dean nodded coldly. "We'll talk about it later," Sam replied, and left the room. When Sam got home that night, Dean was in the kitchen preparing dinner. "I have pasta, too much, want some?" He cast Sam a glance over his shoulder.

"Yeah. That would be great," Sam muttered, getting some water. He started to hum a little.

Dean glanced at him. "I see you've made up with Jimmy." "Made up? No. We're talking, that's all." "Um. Has he left his wife yet?" "No. But he told her about us."

"I see."

"Okay, spill it." Sam moved closer to him, putting his hands on his hips. "What do you want to say?"

"Nothing."

"Yes, you do, you, the guru of wonderful relationships, the guy who wouldn't know love if it bit you on that perfectly shaped ass of yours."

Dean stopped stirring the pasta and turned around. "My perfectly shaped ass, eh?"

"You have selective hearing! That wasn't the most salient point." Sam laughed. "The point is that you know nothing about love."

"That's quite an assumption."

Sam met his gaze and laughed, downing his water. "Come on, you're the king of one-night stands. How many men have you slept with in the last month?"

"Not as many as you imagine, and that's not the point either." He shook his head. He was wearing sweatpants and a tattered old T-shirt. He still looked sensational.

"Then, what is the point?"

"The point is" he sighed "that Jimmy left you high and dry. You gave up your apartment for him. He says he loves you and wants to make a life with you, but he has already done that with someone else, a woman! He doesn't care about your feelings, or the feelings of his wife."

"Don't bring me down. I love him."

"I don't understand why," Dean said, stirring the pasta again.

"I just do. If you'd ever been in love, you'd understand." Sam put down his glass.

"I've been in love," he said suddenly. Sam froze. "What?" He turned around. "I was in love once." "Don't tell me with Marc?"

"No, not Marc," he scoffed. "It was a few years ago." Sam laughed. "Don't shit me." "I'm not shitting you," he protested. "I was twenty-three years old. I fell in love, and I got burned. Why do you think I have such a big apartment?"

"I often wondered about that. But I can't picture you in love, that's all."

Dean strained the pasta and then took down two plates. "You seem to think I'm some sort of sex machine or something, with a heart made out of granite."

Sam laughed. "Well, not granite, steel, maybe."

"Thanks," Dean replied, pouring some sauce over the pasta.

Sam glanced at him. For a moment there, Dean sounded as if he was a little hurt by the comment. They sat down to eat. "The sauce is good," Sam said, changing the subject.

"It was my grandmother's recipe. It takes forever to make. I keep some in the freezer. Help yourself to it."

"Thanks." They talked about his grandmother for a few minutes, then fell silent. Sam put down his fork and looked at him sitting there across the table. He couldn't help but be curious about Dean being in love. "So, do you feel like telling me about it, or is it something you'd rather not talk about?"

He raised an eyebrow and poured himself some wine, then offered to pour some more in Sam's glass. Sam shook his head. "Tell you about what?"

"You in love."

"I'll tell you if you want. I haven't thought about that in a long time."

Sam leaned forward. "Was he handsome?"

"Yeah, he was, in a bohemian kind of way. I met him when I got my first radio job. It was doing commercials at WCMR."

Sam laughed. "You worked at that country music station in New Jersey?"

"Never mind." He scowled. "It was a job. He was DJ there then."

"Is he still there?"

"Nope. He's gone. I think he works in Denver or something. Anyway, we met, we fell in love, or rather, I did. We moved in together, into this place. I was on top of the world until I found out he was sleeping with another guy at the station."

"Ouch." Sam winced. "Sorry. How long did it last?"

"About a year. When I told him I knew he was sleeping around, he didn't seem concerned about it. He said I was overreacting."

Sam shook his head. "What a bastard. But I'm sure you weren't being faithful either. Did he know about that?"

Dean looked up from his plate. "I was being faithful," he said sharply. "I was in love."

Sam didn't know what to say. He just nodded.

"Anyway" Dean shrugged, downing the rest of his wine, "to make a long story short, he decided to accept a job somewhere else and he moved out. Told me it wasn't because of me but it was because the other job paid more." Dean laughed. "Luckily I got the job at WROC soon after he left and I could afford the rent, so I stayed on."

"And after that, you decided to be a cad," Sam teased.

"Yeah, Sam," he replied with a frown, "a real heartless creep who only wants one thing." He picked up his plate and stood up. "You ever stop to think that the guys I sleep with get exactly what they want from me as well, that the using is mutual?"

He disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Sam pondering that. Of course he was right. He didn't promise them anything, but they didn't promise him anything back.

"That's not what I want," Sam announced, bringing his plate into the kitchen.

Dean took his plate, rinsed it, then stuck it in the dishwasher. "What do you want, Sam?"

"Jimmy, I think," Sam replied softly. "I think I should fight for him."

"I think Jimmy should fight for you." Dean gave him a meaningful look.

Sam laughed. "Why?"

Dean moved closer to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He lifted his chin up with one finger and said, "Because I think you're worth fighting for."

With that he left him standing in the kitchen.

That night about two in the morning, Sam made his way to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and stood in front of it, wearing only his underwear.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he heard a deep voice say from behind him, "Watch out, you're going to get a draft standing in front of the fridge like that."

Sam closed the door and turned around with a gasp. "You ass! Don't sneak up on me like that. You scared me half to death."

Dean was standing there in front of him, also wearing next to nothing. He wore only a very revealing pair of black underwear.

Sam's gaze went automatically to the bulge between his legs, then to the floor.

"You're horrible at that," Dean remarked, moving in beside Sam to look inside the fridge.

"At what?" Sam muttered, moving away from him.

"Checking out a guy's package. You got to be more subtle about it," he replied, laughing.

"I was ... was ... not ... checking out your..." Sam stuttered, embarrassed.

"Of course you were." He closed the fridge door. "Here, let me show you how to do it," he said with a comical grin. He placed his hands on Sam's shoulders. "Okay, stand right there."

"What are you doing?" Sam protested, his face twisting into a grin despite himself.

Dean moved his gaze over him a few times before settling on Sam's face. "See!" He threw up his hands.

Sam shook his head, laughing. "You really are an ass. I can't believe you just did that."

"You're blushing," he accused, pointing his finger. "I am not," Sam replied. "Blushing!" Dean repeated loudly, pointing his finger

again. "Okay, Winchester, you're going to pay for that one!" Sam squealed and chased him out of the kitchen. He reached out and knocked Dean over the sofa onto his back, landing hard on top, pushing his arms over his head. "Take it back, jerk!" Sam insisted, his face trying to be serious, but overflowing with laughter.

"Never." Dean struggled underneath him.

"I was not blushing and I was not checking out your package."

"Were too," he sang back loudly.

They started to laugh. The struggling continued, and then suddenly they both realized that here they were, half naked, lying on top of each other and there was no way to disguise the fact that they were both hard as rock.

Sam sobered first and released his hold on Dean. He found himself looking into his eyes and he wasn't laughing anymore. Dean's laughter also died in his throat.

Sam went to climb off of him. "I'm sorry ... I..."

Dean held onto his arms. "Don't," he whispered. "Don't run away."

"I'm not running anywhere, I'm..." He was lost suddenly, looking down into his eyes. Dean's mostly naked body was so close to his.

"Kiss me," Dean invited.

"What?" Sam laughed, trying to pull away, but Dean held his face.

"Damn it, Sam, kiss me. Don't be scared." "I'm not scared." Dean lifted up his head and kissed his mouth hotly. Sam gasped. "What are you ... Dean, don't ... I..." Dean kissed him again, this time pulling him back down

on top of him. Sam moaned against him, drowning in those kisses, his

entire body on fire from being this close to him. What in hell were they doing? He began to struggle again. What if he let it happen? What if? No. It couldn't happen. "Stop it, Dean!"

Dean released him, and sat up. "I'm sorry," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"It was nothing, really. We were only fooling around." Sam sat up, not looking at him. "It was just a harmless kiss."

"Is that what it was?"

Sam's eyes did go to Dean's erection now. It was a quarter of a way out of his underwear and it was beautiful. He swallowed, stifled an inward groan, and tore his gaze away. "Of course," he muttered.

Realizing where Sam's eyes were, Dean tucked himself inside again. "Well," he said, clearing his throat, "guess we should go to bed. We have an early day tomorrow."

"Yeah. Good night, Dean."

Sam looked down at his own erection when he got back to his room and shook his head. What in hell had happened, or almost happened? To Dean, it would mean nothing if they'd slept together. To a guy like Dean, it would be like brushing his teeth, just another notch on his bedpost. He couldn't bear to be another notch on Dean's bedpost. But he couldn't help wondering what it would have been like to have made love with him. The thought of it kept him awake half the night.

The following night, Sam sipped his wine and listened to Dean's deep, sexy voice on the radio as he waited for Chad to come over for dinner. Dean was working the all-night show.

"_This is Dean Winchester, coming to you live from Rock and Roar radio, New York's number one place for rock. Stay with me tonight, baby, and I will rock you steady all night long. Here's a little bit of foreplay"—he brought his voice down to a sexy whisper—"with Brie Anton and Passion, just to get ya wet."_

The song came on, and Sam smiled. No wonder he was so popular, the way he talked. He had made a habit of listening to Dean on Saturday nights when Jimmy was busy. There was a phone-in show, and wacky people often called in.

Chad arrived a few minutes later. Sam poured him some wine and turned up the radio. Chad also loved the Rock and Roar Saturday night show.

Some heavy metal tune had just finished playing and Dean's voice boomed onto the airways. "Roar_, ride me baby. That was just a little bit of Wild Riders for those of you who like your lovers hot!"_

Sam laughed as Chad raised his eyebrows up and down. "God, what a man. What a voice. You rode him yet?" Chad asked, getting a little tipsy.

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "Chad! No, I haven't ridden him yet but last night, we both got hard together." Sam started to laugh as Chad gasped.

"What? Go slow, enunciate. Tell me every detail."

Sam grinned. "Nothing happened. We were fooling around in our underwear, but damn, he has a nice one, that I will tell you. Yum. Wish I'd seen all of it."

"You saw it?"

"Just the tip of it. Now shut up, someone is phoning in, I want to hear."

_"Ya, this is Dean Winchester, taking your calls here on Saturday night live at Rock and Roar Radio. Okay, you're on the line, go ahead."_

_"Mr. Winchester. My name is Katie Cope and I was ordained by God to let the people know that you, sir, are the devil here on earth"._

Sam howled with laughter. "Oh God, can't wait to hear what he says to her."

"Kat_ie, you say?" "Do you accept the Lord thy God as your Lord and—" _"Katie, I'm going to give you a phone number of a friend of mine. He knows how to help people like you. You may need an exorcist."

"I don't need the exorcist, you do. You're the devil."

"Then, honey, I say it takes one to know one. What are you doing listening to my show? You are being corrupted by my power as we speak. Shouldn't you be in church or reading the Bible or something like that? Or is it that my voice gets you hot, and you just can't help but tune in on that dial? The devil is winning, Katie. You'd better turn me off right now."

"You are disgusting. I can help you. I think you should come over to my house so that we can talk."

_"I see. I don't think I can make it, honey. Good night, Katie. Ah, we all have our demons, our secret desires, deep in the night. Let's listen to a little bit of Give It All to Me, Baby. And Katie, I wish you peace."_

Sam and Chad were laughing loudly. Many of the calls were weird like that. Dean handled them all with his own special sense of humor. Sam and Chad fell asleep listening to the radio.

When Sam woke up, Dean was in the kitchen making coffee. "Just get home?" Sam asked him, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he got up from the sofa. Chad had gone and crawled into Sam's bed a few hours before.

"Yep," he said, still dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. "Looks like you had a hard night. You slept on that sofa?"

"I passed out. It's comfortable. Chad and I listened to your show most of the night. It was funny."

"I had some live ones last night. It must have been a full moon."

Sam laughed.

Chad now came out of the bedroom, blinking. "Hi," he said, looking at Dean. "Finally I get to meet you."

"Hi." Dean smiled at him, then went back to making his coffee.

Chad gave Sam a "he's to die for" look. Sam held back laughter. Dean drank his coffee and sat around talking to Chad and Sam for about a half hour, then excused himself and went to bed.

Chad laid his head down on the table after Dean disappeared into the bedroom, a dreamy look on his face. Sam grinned at him. "So I guess I don't need to ask you what you thought of him."

"Sam," Chad raised his head"I think you're a complete idiot for not going for it when you had the chance. He's gorgeous, that body, that smile, holy god, and he's actually nice."

Sam gave Chad a half nod. In the past, a statement like that would have caused him to go into defensive mode, but lately he found himself more inclined to agree. Living here with Dean this last year had caused him to see many different sides of the man, things he'd never imagined. Yes, he had different lovers, but there were times when he didn't go out, and many nights he slept alone.

They had spent a lot of time together, evenings where they would eat popcorn and watch a movie or just talk about anything. And not once had Dean put the moves on him. And as much as Sam would have liked to have denied it, there was chemistry between them, some electrical current that definitely was sexually charged. It had always been there, but that night when Sam had jumped on top of him, it had become more than apparent to both of them. And because of what had happened that night, it seemed that lately Dean avoided being alone with him. It was just as well. Just because Dean had layers didn't mean he was going to jump into bed with him.

"What about Jimmy?" Chad was saying now. "Has he made any decisions? Are you together or what?"

Sam pulled himself out of his quiet pondering and looked at his friend. "We're communicating again. He loves me. I just have to give him time to work things out with his wife, that's all."

"How much time?" Chad asked.

"Chad, let's just drop the subject of Jimmy. It's all going to work out."

"Then he's the love of your life?" Chad mocked. "Yes," Sam replied. Chad's eyes moved in the direction of Dean's bedroom. "I think the love of your life is right in front of your eyes. You're just too stubborn to admit it."

Sam laughed uncomfortably. "Right, Chad," he mocked. "And even if that was true, it would be impossible. He's not the kind of guy you settle down with, so drop it."

Chad left a half hour later. Sam cleaned up the dishes in the sink. He went to lie down for awhile, still tired from his late night. As he drifted in that suspended place between wakefulness and sleep, the phone rang. It was Jimmy.

"So, dinner?" he asked. "Okay. Sounds great. What time?" "I'll come there to pick you up at six." "See you." "Bye, sweetie," he said and hung up. At five thirty, Sam emerged from his bedroom in black dress pants and a French blue shirt. His hair was still damp from the shower. Dean whistled at him from where he lay sprawled on the sofa watching television.

Sam blushed. "Stop it," he said. Dean sat up. "Where you going all dressed up?" "I have a date with Jimmy." Dean groaned, lying back down. "Come on, be nice. Jimmy and I are starting to get it together. He told his wife about us and it's all going to work out."

"Sam,"Dean sighed, "isn't he still living with his wife?" "Yes, but..." "Then he's yanking your chain. When are you going to wake up?" "I don't want to have this conversation with you, Dean," Sam replied angrily. "Then don't." "You don't understand." Sam shook his head. "I love Jimmy and..." Dean got up off the sofa. "Why in hell would you love a guy who has lied to you, almost put you in the street, is married, and still lives with his wife? Maybe you think you love Jimmy; maybe Jimmy is a good man to love because you know it's not going to work out."

"Are you saying that I have commitment problems?" Sam demanded. "This, coming from you, a guy who changes lovers as often as he changes underwear?"

Dean smirked. "No, Sam, I definitely change my underwear more often."

Sam threw a cushion at him. "Don't play with me tonight. I'm nervous."

"About what?" He threw up his hands.

"I want this to work, but..." Sam trailed off. Sam and Dean just stood, looking at each other, when the doorbell rang. "Get the door, okay, and be nice," Sam said softly, disappearing into his room.

Dean sighed and mumbled that he was always nice as he walked over to open the door.

Jimmy smiled at him. "Hello, Dean."

Dean lifted a hand in response. "Hello, Jimmy," he said in reply, leaving the door open for him to come in.

Jimmy looked around. "Sam here?"

"Yeah. He's coming. Can I get you something?" Dean managed to say politely.

"White wine, if you have it," Jimmy replied.

"Take a seat. I may only have red. I'm not a white wine kind of guy."

"Oh. Well, skip it. Water will do. I only drink white."

"Oh, well," Dean said, heading for the kitchen. "So, Jimmy," Dean raised his voice while he poured water into a glass, "how's the wife?"

Just then Sam emerged from the bedroom, in a red shirt this time. He gave Dean an incredibly dirty look.

Jimmy shifted in his seat a little.

"Whoops." Dean cleared his throat, bringing Jimmy the glass. "Did I speak out of turn?"

Sam could have kicked him for that one.

"We are working out a divorce arrangement, actually." Jimmy accepted the glass with a curt "Thanks."

"Oh, really?" Dean replied innocently. "You must have a lot of time to work out this divorce arrangement since you're still living in the house with her, aren't you? That's a bit unusual, isn't it? What do the lawyers think?"

"Well, we haven't actually brought the lawyers into it yet," he said, visibly uncomfortable, then drained his glass. He stood up. "Well, we'll be going. Don't wait up," he said with a laugh, winking at Dean.

Dean's eyes widened at the wink. "Oh, don't worry, Jimmy, I won't."

Sam issued Dean a chilling a look on the way out the door. If looks could kill, Dean would surely be lying there dead. Dean returned the look in a mocking fashion, which made Sam all the angrier. He slammed the door, hard.

"That Dean, damn him. I'm sorry, Jimmy." Sam stormed about it all the way to the restaurant.

Jimmy sighed. "Are we going to talk about Dean all night? Let's eat and go back to your place. I have the whole night." He reached over and squeezed Sam's thigh.

"But Dean's there." "So what? Doesn't he bring his lovers back?" "Sometimes, but ... well, we'll talk about it later, after we eat," Sam said. They had a great dinner. Jimmy was being really charming, insisting they go back to Sam's apartment. Sam gave in finally. They arrived back at the apartment at around ten. Luckily, Dean was gone. They went into Sam's room and had sex. Despite thinking that he was reconnecting with Jimmy, Sam didn't really enjoy it. He felt stressed the entire time, listening for Dean to come in the front door.

At around six the next morning, Jimmy announced he was going to shower and go home. Sam realized that they hadn't really talked about anything. He followed him to the bathroom.

The shower was running when they got there. Sam stiffened. "Dean's in there. Let's wait, okay?" Damn, he was hoping Dean wouldn't be home.

"Let's surprise him," Jimmy joked.

Sams eyes widened. "Let's not. He won't be happy about that."

But Jimmy just barged into the bathroom and slid the shower door open. Sam tried to stop him, but couldn't. "Hey, stud," Jimmy said.

Dean glared at him. "What the hell?"

"Just handing you a towel," Jimmy joked, grabbing a towel as Dean turned off the water.

Sam sighed, rubbing his face, feeling embarrassed as he stood at the threshold. "Come on, Jimmy," he pleaded. "Let's make some coffee."

Jimmy ignored him.

Dean yanked the towel out of Jimmy's hand and wrapped it around his waist. "Get the fuck out of my bathroom!"

"It's a joke, Dean. I'm just playing. Surely the high and mighty Dean Winchester of WROC can take a joke," Jimmy taunted.

"You don't know me well enough to be playing that kind of joke, Novak!" Dean muttered between clenched teeth as he stepped out of the shower.

Sam knew Dean was roaring mad. There was a small hurricane brewing in his jade eyes. Sam took Jimmy's arm and pulled. "Let's go."

Jimmy shook off Sam's hand. "No. Let's not go." He deliberately looked Dean up and down for a minute. "I haven't figured out yet what everyone sees in you, Winchester. You think your shit doesn't stink, don't you? You're just too good to have me walk into your bathroom."

Dean glared at him. "I have no intention of having this discussion with you."

"You've made it clear you don't like me and I think I know why," Jimmy said, pointing at him.

"Really?" Dean raised an eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"Because you wouldn't mind it if it was Sam surprising you in the shower, would you? And you're jealous, jealous of Sam's and my relationship."

Sam gasped. "Jimmy! What in hell are you—"

Dean calmly took out his razor, preparing to shave. "Well, if I had a choice," he drawled. "But that's not the real reason I don't like you." He glanced at Jimmy in the mirror. "The real reason I don't like you is because you're a closet queen who doesn't have the guts to leave your wife. You want to fuck your wife, and play the straight game, and then fuck Sam whenever you want. You don't care who you hurt in the process. You're a liar, a cheat, and a coward." He paused and smiled at him, "And since you asked, that's the real reason I don't like you."

Sam sucked in some breath. Holy shit. Dean had said all this to Jimmy without blinking an eye. He was cool as a cucumber.

Jimmy, however, was not cool. "Why, you son of a—" he began, raising his fist to throw a punch.

Dean turned around in a flash, caught Jimmy's fist in his hand and, in one twist, had him on his knees. He looked down at him, fixing him with his jade eyes. "Now, I'd like to finish shaving, if you don't mind. You are welcome to use the bathroom when I'm done. But for now, this little meeting is over."

Jimmy nodded, wincing in pain. Dean released him. Sam stood aside as Jimmy stormed out of the bathroom, then followed on his heels.

Dean reached over and closed the bathroom door none too gently.

Jimmy was putting on his coat. "Cocky bastard," he muttered. "One of these days..."

"You asked for that. Why did you have to do that?"

"Maybe I'm jealous," he hissed. "You live here with him. How do I know you're not fucking him?"

"Because I'm not fucking him!" Sam told him stiffly.

"A guy who looks like that with that body and you're telling me ...damn, did you see the size of his cock?"

"Never mind that. He's my friend. He gave me a place to live when you pulled your little surprise, remember? We're not sleeping together."

Jimmy nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry." He leaned over and kissed him quickly on the cheek. "Sam, forgive me. I lost my head. I just love you so much. I'll work things out. Look, I'll call you Saturday night. We'll go out, okay?"

Sam nodded miserably, and watched him leave. He sat at the kitchen table, drinking a glass of juice, trying to figure out what exactly he was going to say to Dean.

Dean emerged in shorts and a T-shirt, his hair still wet. He said nothing and Sam didn't know if he should say anything either. After a few minutes, he decided that he needed to apologize for Jimmy. "I want to apologize for Jimmy."

"Why should you?"

"He's sorry for doing that. He didn't mean it. He just loves me so much. He's jealous, that's all."

Dean turned around and met his gaze. "Jealous of what? There's nothing to be jealous of. He knows exactly how to play you, just like a violin. Is that how you think men are supposed to prove they're in love with you, by trying to slug someone? Is that what impresses you?"

"No. He just lost his temper. He thinks we're lovers." Dean laughed out loud. "Is that so hard to imagine, that we could be lovers?" Sam

blinked. "No. In fact, it's too damn easy to imagine," Dean replied,

and left the kitchen. That comment left him speechless.

Summer turned into winter. Christmas was fast approaching again. Jimmy was still trying to work things out, and Sam was holding on, although sometimes he found himself wondering why. Dean had been casually dating some guy called Zane who was a drummer in an up-and-coming rock group. Sam got to meet him quite unexpectedly one night when he came home and surprised the two of them together.

He'd been deep in thought when he came in, wondering if he'd get to spend any time with Jimmy at Christmas. The lights were dim and it was quiet. When he turned the corner to enter the hallway, he stopped dead in his tracks. On the right side of the hall was Dean, stark naked, his hands extended over his head. There was another equally naked guy on his knees in front of him, literally getting his face fucked with Dean's cock. Sam couldn't move. He could barely breathe. Dean's body was at an angle, his broad shoulders leaning against the wall while his hips slowly and sensuously moved in and out of the guy's mouth. The guy knelt on the floor, his jaw stretched to capacity as he accepted the thick, erect cock sliding in and out of it. Brown taut nipples which looked as if they had only recently had a good laving and the round, delightful swell of Dean's ass held him spellbound. The guy on his knees was moaning, but Sam wouldn't have even been able to name the color of his hair. His gaze was filled with the sight of Dean's gorgeous hard body as he performed that sensuous dance. Dean's hands slowly lowered to hold the guy's head steady so that he could move faster and harder and thrust deeper into his ready mouth.

Sam licked his lips. He felt his balls tighten, his cock twitch. He reached out a hand for support, stifling a moan.

Dean slammed up against the wall suddenly, his eyes closing, as he uttered a deep groan of satisfaction. His hips jerked back and forth a few times. The guy on the floor wrapped his hand around the base of Dean's cock, swallowing and then pulling back for a moment before pressing his lips against Dean's cock. "You're so beautiful," he gasped. "Please, fuck me."

Sam snapped back to reality. He propelled himself back around the corner, then opened and closed the door again. He made sure he made a lot of noise.

He heard some scrambling, then Dean appeared with an old tattered robe haphazardly wrapped around him. "Sam," he said, tying the sash, "I didn't expect you back." He ran his fingers through his spiky hair.

"No, I guess not." Sam cleared his throat, trying not to stare at him. He heard the anger in his own voice. It was sudden and totally unexpected.

Dean gave him a curious look. "You seem upset about something."

"Not at all." Sam waved that away.

The other man appeared now, looking equally unkempt. Everyone had told him that Dean's new squeeze was incredibly hot. Hell, he wasn't that hot. "This must be Zane," Sam said, about to add, "He looks happier than a pig in shit, and I know why," but he managed to hold his tongue. He took some satisfaction in knowing he had interrupted them and that Zane wasn't going to get what he really wanted, at least not right now.

The blond rock musician pumped his hand. "Sam, right?"

"Yeah," Sam replied with a nod. He walked over to get something to drink from the fridge. "Hope I wasn't interrupting anything."

"It's okay," Dean said.

"Jimmy and I are going to spend the entire Thanksgiving weekend together," Sam announced, looking at Dean as he went to sit on the sofa. Zane had retreated into the other room, mumbling something about using the bathroom.

"Good for you. He can come here if you like. I'm taking off for the holiday. So, what's he going to do with his wife, stuff her in his trunk?"

"You know," Sam snapped, "you should be less fucking judgmental. He's trying. It's not easy for him."

Dean stared at him. "What's with you anyway? You seemed pissed the moment you walked in here tonight."

"Nothing. Nothing at all. It's just that you never let up. Why don't you give Jimmy a break?"

"Why should I?" Dean demanded, standing up. "I call 'em as I see 'em. You're just too blind to realize it. You can't see what's right in front of your face."

"If I get burned, what's it to you?"

"Well, I thought we were friends. Friends are supposed to care about each other, right?"

"We are friends."

"So I shouldn't be concerned when I see you with a jerk like Jimmy?"

"No, I can handle it." He stopped talking when Zane came out of the bathroom.

"I gotta go, Dean," Zane announced.

Dean walked him to the door. They stood talking quietly for a few minutes, then Zane left.

"So, how long is this one going to last?" Sam threw at him when he closed the door.

Dean glanced at him. "I like Zane." "Oh, it's serious then?" "Maybe." He paused for a moment, then came over and stood in front of him. Sam felt his pulse race. His eyes moved down the smooth column of Dean's throat to where the robe lay open on his chest, then looked away. "Listen, I'm sorry about nagging you about Jimmy. I just don't want to see you hurt. I know you don't see it, but Jimmy is bad for you. He's not going to leave his wife."

"There you go again, assuming that..." Sam shook his head. He started to walk away, but Dean caught his arm. He pulled him up against his chest for a moment. "Wait," he said, looking into his eyes. Sam felt like a deer caught in the headlights. He didn't know which one of them moved closer first, but suddenly their lips met, hard, crushing, mouths opening, tongues colliding.

Sam wanted to rip open that robe, run his hands over Dean's chest, taste his skin, take his cock into his mouth. Instead, he clenched his fists at his side.

Dean wasn't dissuaded. His mouth moved from Sam's mouth to his throat. "Sammy," he moaned, " I want to make love to you." Sam closed his eyes. He was in a dream, being held so close in Dean's arms with his hands moving down to his back and gently squeezing his ass cheeks. He let his head go back, allowing Dean's lips to trail across his chest for a few minutes. He swallowed as an image pushed into his mind. He saw that young guy crying, saw Zane swallowing Dean's cock, envisaged himself desperately in love and alone, and somehow, he found the strength to wrench himself away from those strong arms. He was breathless, his chest heaving with suppressed desire. He couldn't leave himself open for this. He was only asking for heartbreak.

Dean stood there in front of him, his expression unreadable. He shook his head. "Why?"

"Why?" Sam echoed. "Because nothing any man could ever do could hurt me as much as you could," he whispered, feeling the tears threatening. He blinked them away.

Dean's eyes narrowed in confusion. "I don't understand."

Sam put some distance between them. "Never mind. You don't need to. I'm sorry. Forget I said that. I don't know what I'm saying anymore. I'm tired. I'm going to bed now." He headed for his bedroom, stunned as the tears spilled out of his eyes. He barricaded himself behind his bedroom door, locked it, leaned on it, and listened for any sound. The taste of Dean's kiss still lay on his bruised mouth. He waited, holding his breath. Dean didn't come after him. He sank down on the side of the bed with a sigh, a mixture of relief and disappointment.

A little while before the Thanksgiving break, Sam came home to find Dean packing. He was surprised that Zane was there with him. He could hear them in the bedroom, talking and laughing. Sam sat on the sofa feeling super depressed suddenly, which made no sense. He didn't know what in hell was going on with him lately.

When Dean and Zane emerged from the room, it was obvious they'd just finished having sex. They were fully dressed, but clearly straight from the shower. Zane had a giant hickey on his neck that he displayed quite proudly.

Sam said hello, which earned him a polite hello in return from both men. "Dean," Sam said, watching him take leftovers out of the fridge.

"Um?" Dean asked, putting some ham in his mouth. "When are you leaving?" Dean had been distant again since that kiss the other night. Sam was hoping they could get past this feeling of uneasiness.

"Tonight," he said.

Sam looked at Zane, who'd joined Dean at the counter. Dean fed him a piece of ham. They laughed. Sam looked away, their intimacy grating on him suddenly.

"So, are you going to say where you're going, or is it a secret?"

"To Sri Lanka, for a whole month, lie in the sun, and..." Dean began.

"Make love and make love some more," Zane added, grabbing Dean and kissing him hotly.

Sam stiffened. "A month?" "Is there a problem?" Sam looked at him. Sam nodded soberly. He'd thought Dean was going alone. Zane left the room for a second to get his stuff. Dean started making a sandwich. Sam stood up and walked over to him. "This seems pretty serious, between you and Zane. So, you're finally settling down?" Sam asked, his voice trembling.

Dean shrugged. "It is what it is." "Which means?" Sam probed. "What do you care?" Dean asked, meeting his eyes. "You have Jimmy to worry about." "I, well, I care about you, like you said the other night, we're friends. I don't want to see you get hurt, that's all. I'd like to see you happy."

"Um. Well, thanks for your concern. Don't worry about me," he replied. "I can take care of myself. You have much bigger problems with what's his name."

Zane finally left, saying something about waiting downstairs. Sam tried to think of something to say. "You know, Jimmy has saved the holiday to be with me."

"You told me that already, twice," Dean reminded him. "What in hell do you want me to say? Lucky you," he sang, checking his suitcase.

What did he expect Dean to say? Did he want him to be jealous? Sam watched him closely as he took his suitcase out into the hallway.

"Jimmy's trying." Sam met Dean's gaze.

"Sam, don't tell me, tell yourself. Jimmy is constantly trying; the question is, trying to do what? Believe what you want to believe." Dean sighed. "You're determined to think Jimmy will do the right thing and maybe he will. You've always believed exactly what you wanted about Jimmy," he paused and looked at him," and about me."

Sam balked. "What do you mean, about you?"

"You thought you knew what kind of man I was right from the very beginning. You wanted to believe I was some kind of heartbreaking Romeo, so you never even gave me a chance." He reached in the closet for his coat.

"I didn't know that you ... ah, wanted a chance," Sam managed, feeling quite desperate all of a sudden.

Dean shrugged his broad shoulders, turning around. "It doesn't matter if I did or not. And do you know what's so fucking ironic? You really did end up with the heartbreaker after all. I never understood it. What in hell was it about me that scared you so much, Sam?"

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it. How could he tell him that just looking at him made him tremble all over? How could he explain that? How could he explain to Dean that the man could bring him to his knees with just a look, that loving him could rip out his heart if Dean ever rejected him? How could he tell him that he loved him way too much?

"Well," Dean said suddenly, "I've got to go. See you around. Take care and, " he turned around at the door, "good luck with Jimmy. I mean that sincerely. If he's really what you want, I hope it works out for you."

"You sound as if ... like you're not coming back?" Sam said. He laughed faintly, but it rang hollow.

Dean didn't answer. He just walked out and shut the door behind him.

All that night, Sam lay awake thinking about what Dean said. It was true, all of it. That night two years ago, he'd seen that guy run out of this place crying, and he had never even bothered to ask Dean to explain his side of it. He'd just assumed Dean had used that guy, and had tossed him aside. And the guy he thought was safe, Jimmy, his boy next door, was the one who had betrayed him.

Sam tried to put it all out of his mind. He told himself he and Jimmy still had a chance. He went about preparing the turkey dinner. Then he waited. When Jimmy didn't show by midnight, he knew he wasn't going to. But this time, he felt relief. It was over, but then so was his excuse. He had never really been in love with Jimmy. He'd used him to keep himself from facing the truth. He was in love with Dean, and he'd been in love with him from the moment he'd laid eyes on him. What he'd been looking for was exactly where his best friend Chad said it was, right in front of his eyes.

That Monday he went back to the office and when Jimmy came in, prepared to give him his excuses, Sam looked at him and shook his head. "Dean was so right about you. You're a loser. And finally I've woken up. Jimmy, I don't love you anymore. In fact, I don't think I ever did. I don't want you. Although I wasn't making love with Dean, I sure as hell should have been. All those nights I wasted with him just down the hall. I'm in love with Dean, and when he comes home, I'm going to tell him so."

Jimmy laughed bitterly. "Well, good luck, because the way I hear it, buddy, you blew it. He's not coming back. He gave his notice to the station the day before he left. The boss practically begged him on his knees to stay. Guess they'll have to find a new golden boy, and you'll have to get yourself another fantasy."

Sam gasped. "He never said anything."

"No," Jimmy threw back at him, "he wouldn't. He just figured you were too damn stupid to figure it out, too focused on me. Guess he was right."

Sam felt sick to his stomach. "What are you talking about?"

"He's in love with you," he sneered. "Everyone could see it. All that concern about our relationship, the way he took you in. Christ, the guy almost broke my arm in his freaking bathroom. Well, have fun being alone," he said, and walked off.

Sam rushed into the boss's office without knocking. "I have to have a week of vacation, now," he begged.

The answer was no.

Sam looked his boss in the eyes. "Listen to me; I can get Dean to come back to the station; at least, I think I can. You do want him back, don't you?"

"I'm listening." Bobby stood.

"Let me go to Sri Lanka and talk to him. Bobby, I'm going to tell you the truth, and I don't give a shit if you approve or not. I'm in love with him, and I messed up big-time. I think he's leaving because of me. I have to go after him, with or without your permission. If you won't give me this week off, I'm going to quit!"

Bobby was silent for a long time, then he frowned. "All right, go on, and personally I don't give a shit how you get him back here, just do it." He handed Sam a paper with the name of a hotel on it and Dean's room number. "This is where he's staying. I was supposed to forward his pay."

Sam grabbed the paper and ran out the door. He called Chad as soon as he had made the reservations. "Chad, I'm going after him," he said into the phone.

"Sam, let him go. Jimmy is a no-good—"

"Not Jimmy. I'm going after Dean. I'm in love with him. I'm going to tell him. I'm going to beg him to come home." Tears stung his eyes. "He left the station. I think it's because of me. He never really said, but I'm sure that's what it is. I've been so stupid."

"Finally!" Chad exclaimed. "Go get him, Sam. You're meant for each other."

"He's with someone," Sam said hesitantly. "He left with another guy."

"Sam, give it your best shot. Don't come home without him."

"I won't," he said with determination, and hung up. He had a flight booked to Sri Lanka that night. He'd been lucky to get the last room available at the same hotel where Dean was staying. He had one shot. He had to make this work.

On the plane he thought about his last words to Jimmy. Jimmy hadn't even seemed upset when he'd told him it was over. Boy, had he ever played Sam for an idiot. Dean had been right all along. _Please_, he prayed, _please God, let him believe me when I tell him how I feel, let him still care._

When he got to the hotel room, he paced the floor nervously. Coincidentally, he was down the hall from Dean and Zane's room. Should he call him? Should he just bump into him? No matter how he did it, Dean was going to be surprised to see him there. He decided to say that Bobby had sent him to convince him to stay at the station. That would work for starters. Yes.

He called the hotel switchboard and was connected to Dean's room. Dean answered right away. "Hello?"

"Dean," Sam said into the receiver, clutching the phone.

"SAm?" he replied, his voice surprised. "What's wrong? Is everything all right? Did something break at the apartment?"

"No. I'm not at the apartment. I'm ... ah ... down the hall." He waited for a reaction.

"What room?" "Twenty-two." "I'll be right there," he said, and hung up. Seconds later, there was a knock on the door. Sam opened it. Dean eyed him suspiciously. "What are you doing here?" "Bobby sent me to convince you to come back." "I'm not going back." "Dean, why didn't you tell me you were leaving the

station? What were you going to do about the apartment?" "I bought the apartment before I left, Sam. You can live there rent free as long as you like. I would have told you. I left a letter for you on your desk. I guess you didn't see it."

"What did you say in the letter?"

Dean shrugged. "I told you about the apartment. I said that I needed a change." He walked over to the window. He turned around a few seconds later, smiled at him. "Why would Bobby send you to talk me into coming back? He knew I'd made up my mind."

Sam swallowed. "He knows we're friends, and he thinks you care about me."

"I do care about you," he said.

There was a silence. Sam took a deep breath. "This Zane guy, do you love him?"

"Not yet."

Sam laced his fingers together. "Bobby didn't send me out here."

Dean lifted an eyebrow.

Sam ran his gaze over him, the white shorts, light blue tank top, those incredible eyes, looking at him now, so beautiful, questioning.

"No. I came because I..." Sam's voice faltered.

"You came because you what?" Dean took a step toward him. "You what, Sam?" he persisted, reaching over and taking one of his hands.

Tears lit Sam's eyes. "I love you. I loved you the moment I saw you. It took me by surprise, scared the shit out of me. You were larger than life. You are larger than life and I was so scared that you would destroy me. Please tell me it's not too late. Tell me that..."

But before he could go on, Dean pulled him into his arms and kissed him deeply, ran his hands over his back, then let him go.

"That was some answer," Sam replied, spellbound. "I can do better, if you let me." "I'm sure you can." Sam laughed a little. "But what about

Zane?" His heart was racing, his face not able to contain his smile.

"Zane who?" he asked softly.

"Dean, you just can't leave Zane hanging, like with Marc..."

"Do you want to know what happened with Marc and I? Do you care to hear my side now?"

Sam nodded.

"Marc and I slept together once. It was after an office party. We both had a little bit too much to drink. I tried to let him down easy. He became clingy. Before the party, I had given him the key to my apartment because he'd agreed to check on things when I took my vacation that summer. I regretted it. Things got out of hand. I know, I might not have handled it the way I should have. I tried to be nice, but..." He threw up his hands. "I had nothing to do with him losing his job. He did that all on his own. I actually tried to talk Bobby into giving him a break. Do you believe me?"

Sam nodded. "Yes. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. And Zane? You can't just leave him down the hall."

"Zane isn't down the hall. I'm alone." "Then where is he?" "On tour. He was only traveling halfway with me." Sam gasped. "You made me believe that you were going on vacation with him! He played along?"

"Yes." He smiled. "Zane is actually the kind of guy you want to avoid getting involved with. It was only sex with us, nothing more. When he realized how desperately I loved you, he suggested that we pretend we were going together." Dean pulled Sam back into his arms. "I was hoping for a reaction. It seems to have worked?"

Sam grinned. "Yeah, it worked," he said grudgingly. "I can hardly believe it."

"Will you forgive me?" Dean looked down into his eyes, kissed his mouth tenderly. "What can I do to make it up to you?"

"Oh boy," Sam cooed, "do I have a list for you."

"A list, eh?" he said, a twinkle in those jade eyes.

"Oh yeah." Sam nodded. "First, take off those clothes, all of them. No more taunting me with your half naked body like you did back home."

"Taunting you?"

"Off, now," Sam demanded, grabbing his shirt. "And you're going to talk dirty to me with that sexy radio voice of yours and..."

Dean brushed his hands away and undid his shirt. He tossed it aside. "You know," he mused, pulling Sam's T-shirt over his head, "I just might have some demands of my own. After all, you have made me wait for over two years." He reached for Sam's pants.

"As if you've been depriving yourself," he accused with a grin.

"I have." Dean smiled. "All those others were just poor substitutes for the real thing." He moved his lips down Sam's smooth muscular chest and started stroking his erection. "I don't have any wives in the closet, Baby. All I have is me. And I'm all yours. Think you can handle it?" He sank to his knees and took Sam's leaking cock into his mouth. Dean looked up at him, and met his eyes; his lips tightened around Sam's shaft.

Sam moaned. "I'm willing to give it the old ... ah ... college ... oh my God ... college ahhhh." He forgot what he was saying suddenly; the expert maneuvering of Dean's tongue was turning any words he might utter into gibberish. He let his head go back, every nerve in his body tense. Oh, he was so close. He wanted to hold on. He wanted it to last forever.

Dean took him in deeper, swallowing. He felt the head of his cock touch the wall of Dean's throat. _Jesus God. _He let out a shout and came, his cock spurting out reams of cum as Dean swallowed it down greedily then sat back on the floor and smiled at him.

Sam reached out to steady himself, his body shuddering with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He looked down at Dean. He was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. But damn it, he still had those shorts on. Sam licked his lips, his knees weak. "Take off your..."

Dean got to his feet. Seductively, he stripped down naked and then motioned to Sam with his finger. Sam followed him to the bed. He would have followed him anywhere. Dean lay on the bed and gave him that beguiling smile. "Come and get it, baby. Come and make love to me. And make me feel it 'cause I've been waiting for you oh so long."

Sam trembled as he moved down into his arms and kissed his mouth. It was like ambrosia and chocolate, the most numbing sense of euphoria he'd ever experienced. Dean's hands moved over his body, and almost reverently, Sam began to kiss every succulent inch of him.

"This is Dean Winchester," he said in his sexiest radio voice, "coming to you live, in fact, very live" he glanced down at his own erection comically "from Rio, where the most wonderful guy I've ever known is making passionate love to me, and I surrender. I surrender myself to him before all others. I give to him all my love, my heart, my body, and my soul. I love you, Sammy. Will you take me and make me yours for the rest of my life?"

Sam raised his head and looked at him, tears burning his eyes. "Dean," he whispered, "oh, baby. I love you Dean." He grabbed his face and kissed him hungrily. "I take you forever, my beautiful lover. You're mine, for the rest of my life. Make me yours now."

Sam reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a condom. He rolled it onto Dean's hard as marble cock, then straddled it. He closed his eyes as he felt Dean's cock slide up inside of him. He looked down to see the bliss on Dean's handsome face. He took him deeper. Dean gasped, then reached up to touch Sam's face. Sam began to ride his cock, to make it his. He'd waited so long for something he didn't even think was possible. He took it hard and fast, finally slowing to catch his breath.

Dean bucked underneath him. Sam laughed, his hands settling on his hard, sculptured abs. "Slow down there, cowboy," he cooed teasingly as he reared up off of his cock and then took him back inside, inch by succulent inch. He wiggled down onto his hips, taking as much of him as he possibly could. "You're a big boy," he whispered with a slow smile.

Dean reached up for his face and dragged his mouth to his. Sam lost himself in that kiss. He couldn't help thinking how many men would have killed to be in his, position right now. He moved a little, letting himself feel Dean's cock buried deep inside of him.

"Okay," Dean growled, "that's it. You're going to get it now." Dean lifted him off of him and flipped him around, pulling him up on all fours.

Sam laughed, shouting in protest. "Not fair!"

Dean held him around the waist with strong arms, pulling him up against his solid chest while Sam tried to feign protest. They playfully wrestled a bit.

"Mmm... yeah.," Sam let his head loll back on Dean's shoulder as Dean penetrated him with his hard cock.

Dean leaned down and kissed his mouth as he began to pump into him.

Sam moaned as he fell forward on his hands and grunted, really feeling Dean's need now, a need that was building steadily with his own. "Oh God," he called out. "Yes."

As Dean pumped his desire into him, Sam choked back tears. He'd never felt such pleasure, never felt such love, and that was what poured out of Dean as he came inside Sam, his hand wrapped around the other man's cock.

They fell together on the bed and Dean pulled him close. He kissed the top of his head and closed his eyes. "That was worth waiting for."

Sam smiled. "And how long before we do it again?"

Dean opened one eye. "So eager, Sammy, I like that," he said with a smile.

"Now that I know what I was missing. I'm going to be insatiable" He took

Dean's hand in his and brought it to his lips. "I dreamed it would be this way between us."

"Um, and to think of all the time you wasted, my love, when there I was all along, living and working right beside you."

Sam crawled on top of him. "All that time I should have realized, it had to be you."

Dean pulled him down and kissed him deeply. Sam melted into the kiss knowing he was finally right where he belonged.


End file.
